Day Under the Sun
by PPP SSC
Summary: The picnic at Lake Springfield seemed perfect at the time, but when the billionaire and his assistant get drunk, their cake goes missing, causing all sorts of new surprises. Warning: includes slash, mild language, and some sexual themes
1. The Picnic

Day under the Sun

Charles Montgomery Burns looked at the lake. It was more sparkly than ever this time of year. He spread out a checkerboard blanket. He placed his picnic basket on the ground and started to empty it. Inside was a delicious spread: a cheese wheel, a jar of smoked oysters, homemade salmon mousse, some socialite crackers, two sandwiches made with delicious medium rare roast beef and a horseradish/au-jus combination on French baguettes, and a bottle of champagne. The suggestion had come from his companion, who had told Montgomery that it would be fun to eat a fancy and expensive picnic in front of any subordinates that might come to the lake that day, either to show off or to make them jealous. Montgomery's companion was running a wee bit late. He had promised to bake a chocolate cake from scratch and bring it to the picnic, so Monty sat and waited for his companion to arrive.

His companion was none other than his assistant, Waylon Smithers Jr., who had gotten to the picnic roughly fifteen minutes late, carrying with him a beautifully decorated chocolate cake—made with lots of love and affection. Montgomery said, "It took you long enough to arrive."

"I'm sorry, sir", Waylon apologized, "But the rosettes were hard to make without a squeeze bottle."

Montgomery told Waylon, "You know, you could always just BUY a squeeze bottle."

Waylon explained further, "I did, and the line at the store was hell. Homer Simpson was in front of me with _eleven _items. In the express lane! And he wouldn't listen to the cashier who told him to leave, so eventually I gave up and used the normal lane, in which I was behind Lenford Leonard, who was for some reason buying 100 packages of bacon! But at least that eventually ended, I finished decorating our cake, and now I'm here."

Montgomery asked, "Why do those names sound so familiar?"

Waylon answered, "Because they're our subordinates, sir."

"Hmm…" Montgomery pondered, and then started eating his sandwich. Waylon joined in and started eating the other one. Soon the two of them had eaten all the entrée/side items except for a few slices of cheese, a couple of socialite crackers, a single smoked oyster, and salmon mousse that could fit in one teaspoon. "Well, I guess it's time for the wine course, eh, Smithers?"

Waylon said, "Yes sir. That would be lovely." Montgomery took the bottle of champagne out of his basket along with two crystal flutes. He poured one for himself, and then for his assistant. Waylon proposed a toast, "To our success at the company!"

Montgomery smiled and toasted back, "To our success at the company!" And they kept drinking the champagne until the bottle was empty. Montgomery practically fainted from inebriation, and Waylon, feeling a little tipsy as well, decided to act on his long suppressed unrequited love. Inebriated Monty didn't notice who was fondling him, so he assumed it was a beautiful woman and kissed back.

The two of them didn't notice that all the people present who actually had an IQ of 100 or better (shocking!) were staring right at them. Waylon was about to undress Montgomery, actually, but Chief Clancy Wiggum put a stop to that right away. Waylon cried as Clancy dragged him away, "But I looooooove him."

"You can 'love him' on private property, but this is a public place."

Montgomery slurred loudly, "You can take my girlfriend, but you can't take my rifle." He picked up the empty champagne bottle, and stuck the neck out as if it were a barrel of a gun.

"And you," said Clancy, "You're WAY over the legal limit. You're coming with me."

"He only drank half the bottle, you agist pig." Waylon said in that half-drunken way he has been doing.

"That's right, Smithy, Smithereens, he's a good guy he drank seven fifths of the bottle." Montgomery slurred loudly once again.

Clancy carried Montgomery on one shoulder and Waylon on the other. When he got back to the car, he said, "This one was caught attempting public nudity," handing Waylon to his backup, Lou. "And this one was caught with a blood alcohol content way over the legal limit," he said, handing Montgomery to his backup, Eddie.

Lou looked jealous and said, "Why do you get the drunk one?"

Eddie looked jealous and said, "Why do you get the cute one?"

They instinctively traded. Their next transaction went a little something like this:

"Hey you didn't tell me he was ugly!"

"And you didn't tell me this one was only a little tipsy!"

"You're kinda cute," Waylon said without thinking, and kissed Eddie on the lips.

Eddie said, "Well… I'm flattered, but wouldn't you rather date someone… older?"

"You bet I would, and he's in your partner's hands." Waylon tried to squirm out of Eddie's grasp and crawl over to Montgomery.

Montgomery tried to do the same with Lou's grasp and Waylon. Eventually they both fell on the ground and passed out. Lou and Eddie shrugged and left them by the lake. "Uh, chief… those two misdemeanors you found got away," Lou half-lied.

"Well, that's okay, so long as they aren't in my eyesight anymore. That relationship is some serious squick. I mean, that guy is 61 years older than his boyfriend."

"Well chief, some people like older women… or men."

"I can't speak for them, but I say, within 10 years or no deal."

When Waylon and Montgomery finally came to, sobered up, they saw that it was nearly sundown. Waylon shot a worried expression, only to be returned in kind. "The cake!" they both exclaimed, running down to the lake to see what had become of it, not without Montgomery stopping to upchuck out of hangover. They finally reached the lake and found that the blanket was still there, but the cake was missing. "Somebody stole it!" Montgomery shouted.

Waylon started to cry, "I spent 4 hours on that cake and 90 ungodly minutes at the grocery store to buy ONE ITEM to bake a cake for you… and for me. For you and me alone! And now all that effort has gone to someone else."

"Oh relax," Montgomery said, "It was just a cake. We can just buy one."

"You don't understand! I NEEDED to make it for you, I just did. You don't understand and you never will, but that cake NEEDED to be made from scratch, and personalized for the one I truly love…" Waylon continued and upon seeing the weird look on Montgomery's face, quickly added, "As a friend, and a friend alone!"

Montgomery started to worry and clutched onto his assistant saying, "If there is a prowler on the loose than he could attack me next. You know how we billionaires are always victim to assassinations."

Waylon narrowed his eyes seductively and said, "Don't worry, sir. I'll protect you with my life."


	2. The Tavern

At 8 pm at Moe's tavern, the last slices of cake are being shared among bartender Moe Szyslak and his regulars: Homer Simpson, Lenny Leonard, Carl Carlson, and Barney Gumble. Lenny sticks his fork into the cake and takes out a bite of the moist chocolate. Carl mimics him in kind, with a rosette on his fork, sliding the frosting into his mouth. Homer took his fork over to Lenny's plate, and tried to steal it. Lenny bumped him with his elbow and said, "Eat your own!"

And with that, Homer tossed his fork behind his barstool, and picked up the plate and began to lick it clean. Barney slurred, "Haha. Homer's a dog!" Carl turned his head in disgust, and Lenny couldn't help but look at Homer with a shocked expression on his face. Eventually all four customers began to laugh.

But Moe… Moe was a different story. He hesitatingly took a bite out of the cake; all his customers had already had three slices each, and he realized that he was being the party-pooper of the tavern. But it felt somehow wrong. This cake was not store-bought. It was homemade. And not by any of the customers or himself. He figured the cake was created with love and care, mostly because of the brief fuzzy feeling he got when he ate that first bite, then racked with guilt again because he knew that this love and care was created for someone else, who probably rightly deserved it. And he was also racked with low self esteem, because since this love and care was created for someone else, it was only a false stroke to him.

So Moe had the idea of retribution. He would find out who made the cake and—anonymously—make amends by baking a cake for him or her in return. In order to figure out who baked it, he would have to do a little sleuthing. Since Homer was the one who "borrowed" it, he would be the most likely to know. Moe looked over the counter at the countenance of a man who had committed petty theft that impacted Moe's conscience more than any mass produced expensive item thefts he had ever heard of. Because homemade cakes have the ingredient of love. Love, the thing that Moe had never known because of his ratty features and grouchy disposition, and the thing he horribly wanted other people to feel so they wouldn't feel as lousy as he. Homer looked up at Moe. Moe asked, "Homer, where did you get this cake?"

"Well, you see, my boss and his assistant were having a picnic but then they started sleeping by the side of the road and so I took their cake," Homer said, "I think it's justified payback for how badly Mr. Burns treats me."

"So did your boss make the cake?" Moe asked.

"No, his assistant did. His assistant is always doing little things like that for him," Homer continued to say more. "Why?"

Moe answered, "I don't feel right about stealing their cakes, so I'm going to reimburse them with a cake of my own. What does your boss's assistant look like and what's his name?"

"Well… he's ugly, for one thing. Gray hair is not cool," Homer began, with Moe looking dejected in return. "Uh… but it looks good on you."

"Thanks Homer," Moe said, "But you don't have to lie to me."

"And those glasses… man, are they NERDY! And his neck is long and slender like a giraffe's. In fact, I think he may have broken Mr. Burns' mirror once because of how hideous he is and…"

"Homer, do you talk to him about me like this too?" Moe asked, very insulted at the notion that someone was being called ugly behind his back.

"Oh, no, Moe. You and I are friends. Mr. Smithers is friends with Mr. Burns. He deserves to be insulted, unlike you."

Moe began to pity Mr. Smithers, for he knew that if HE learned someone called him ugly behind his back, he'd hit them for not being more up-front about it, but considering that the character Homer described didn't sound terribly ugly, and without descriptions of unusual features, sounded quite attractive, it would probably hit him hard.

"Closing time," Moe said.

"But it's only 8:15," whined Homer.

"My watch says it's 3:40," slurred Barney.

"Barney," Lenny said, pointing out with frustration, "You're reading the wrong hands on your watch."

"Correction," Barney slurred. "My watch is on my hand, not the other way around!"

Moe started yelling grumpily, "I said CLOSING TIME! You know, you don't have to go home but you CAN'T STAY HERE! Don't make me get out my shotgun!" With that, the bar regulars ran out the door except Barney who tripped and fell right before the exit. Moe then took a broom and swept him out the door, slammed it shut, and went into the back.

"Smithers… Smithers… where have I heard that name before?" Moe asked himself. The name was familiar, because one time Montgomery called his tavern and asked for a Mr. Smithers, first name Waylon. Moe, without thinking, assumed it was a prank call and hung up. After pondering this thought and coming out fruitless, he hung up his apron and headed home.

The next morning, Montgomery had a crazy idea. He wanted to build a waterslide in the middle of the road right in front of Moe's tavern and have the slide lead right into the entrance of the bar. Waylon contracted fifteen builders, all of whom were being paid ten million dollars for the job, with one million gone for every hour beyond five they take, and one million being gone for slacking off in the middle, and at the end they only get to keep half if the job is not done correctly. It took them exactly fourteen hours, but only one person, who was caught drinking a frou-frou drink (_Waylon's _frou-frou drink to be precise) while lying on a lawn chair instead of working for thirteen of those fourteen hours got paid nothing. Everyone else went home with what Montgomery would call a paltry sum of one million dollars.

After the project was completed, Montgomery told Waylon, "Well, Smithers. Since that oaf cheated you out of your drink, perhaps you should be the first to test my waterslide."

"Uh… sir," Waylon began shyly, "I've never been so good with waterslides."

"Oh, nonsense," said Montgomery, as he pushed Waylon onto the waterslide.

Waylon slid down the rapid and dampened slide, saying to himself, "Damn it, I never told Mr. Burns that I loved hi-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-m!" Montgomery heard a small sound come from the slide, but it was indistinguishable. He assumed it was something to do with a bottomless pit, and let it go.

Waylon landed right in the pool at the bottom, just inches away from the door, unscathed, and very relieved. "Well," he said to himself, "It can wait."

He walked into the door. Moe was confused. "Why are you all wet? Did you go bathing in the draught while I wasn't looking?" he asked. Of course, no human being could fit inside the draught, but what other logical reason could there be? Moe had heard construction but he did not know what was being built, and it was a small town strip, not an amusement park, so why would he suspect a waterslide?

"My boss pushed me down a waterslide that was built right outside your door, sir." Moe looked at the wet man and noticed the things Homer had described the night before: the glasses, the gray hair, and the neck.

Moe approached the wet man, and asked him timidly, "Your name wouldn't happen to be Mr. Smithers, would it?"

Taken aback ever so slightly, Waylon said, "Yes, that's me, Waylon Smithers. What do you know about me?"

"I know that your cake got stolen by Homer Simpson…" Moe sighed. "I'm very sorry, Mr. Smithers."

"Please, call me Waylon. Mr. Smithers is reserved for my subordinates, Smithers without the title for my boss," Waylon said, "Oh… if only Homer Simpson KNEW how much Monty… I mean, Mr. Burns… was looking forward to that cake, maybe he wouldn't have been such an ignorant…boob." Listening to his own words is what shocked Waylon the most. They weren't even officially "together" and already, he's assimilating to Montgomery's speech pattern.

Moe asked, without malice, and out of sheer curiosity, "Do you like Mr. Burns?"

Waylon jumped, and then said sheepishly, "Is it THAT obvious?"

The answer Moe gave was more than sufficient, "Well if you took the time to bake him a cake from scratch, when most assistants would have just given him a store-bought one, and were hurt not by the theft but of the very fact that he would not get his full happiness, then, yeah, you pretty clearly like him. Not that there's anything wrong with that, or anything. But it's just all my regular customers say he's cruel and relentless. But if you can like him enough to bake him that cake with all its tasty love and affection, which I confess, I did partake, albeit barely, in eating, then he can't be all bad."

Waylon smiled, for even if he did not necessarily find an ally for his preference—Moe did use the word "like", it could have just been the opposite of "dislike"—he found someone else who could tolerate Montgomery. And that more than anything made Waylon feel sane.

"Now down to business," said Waylon, "I'd like a mango daiquiri."

As Moe searched the back of his cupboard for the required mixers and rum, he smiled, with his back turned so not even Waylon could see him. And he thought to himself, _No, Waylon Smithers is definitely NOT ugly._


	3. The Confession

Moe's cake looked delicious. Only someone whose heart was trampled on could be such a delicate artist. The icing was of the butter cream variety, and had, along with the rest of the cake, been made from scratch. He had to rent a dolly from the local grocer to carry it, but he believed the stroke Waylon would receive when getting such a cake made it all worth it.

He asked around to find Waylon's address, which some people quickly told him. He pushed the dolly up to Waylon's apartment, rang the bell and ran off as quickly as he could. Despite his homely face, his body was in quite a good condition, and so he made it out of sight before Waylon opened the door.

Waylon was surprised to see the cake standing there, but was more surprised when the oversized doily supporting it had a card connected to it. Waylon gently tore off the card and read it.

_Dear Wayland,_

"Well, he was close…" Waylon noted, although if it had crossed his mind that the sender may have been female he would probably have noted, "Women can't even remember men's names! What is so great about them?"

_I have sent you this cake because I want you to know how bad I felt about Homer stealing your own. I know it might not be the best or most delicious cake in the world, but it is my hope that you will re-gift this cake to the person who should have received yours in the first place. You can tell him the truth if you want to, or you can pretend you made it, but please don't think of me while doing so._

_I am not in love with you. Nor am I in love with your boss. But what goes on between you two is not up to me. And I think that you should act on it. You're a very attractive man, no matter what Homer tried to tell me behind your back, and you shouldn't let anything like this ruin your life._

_If you are too afraid of being rejected, you may never learn what might lie around the corner if you are accepted. And trust me, I have been rejected many times, but you don't have to be. You're friendly, attractive, and shy without being overtly self-loathing. And this is coming from first impressions alone._

_Don't let anyone tell you there is something wrong with you. There is something wrong with everyone, but yours is not significant in any way. You being gay (or bi, I have to be careful) is no worse than me being ugly. It's just a part of life._

_If you re-gift this cake, even if you do tell him the truth, you should tell him that the love and care that originally formed it came from you yourself._

_I was going to make an anonymous letter, but considering you probably already know who sent this letter from the content, I'm going to sign it anyway,_

_Sincerely,_

_Moe Szyslak_

_P.S. Homemade gifts are great for the man who has everything. Find out what he likes the best and then recreate them out of sheer love and devotion._

Waylon was very touched by the heartfelt letter. But he couldn't help but wonder to himself, _Is he sure he's not in love with me? He called me attractive TWICE!_ Waylon blushed when he read "You're friendly, attractive, and shy without being overtly self-loathing" and he started to weep softly when he read, "Don't let anyone tell you there is something wrong with you." Those were the kindest words he had ever heard.

Before the only people who had told him that were people with the same exact problem; which is not exactly supporting because most of his friends were on huge ego trips. Everyday that he went to the gay village, he found a transaction between two guys that went a little like this:

"I'm sexy, but you're sexy too. Just not AS sexy."

"Oh give me a break. You're pretty dang sexy but I'm sexier."

They would continue to argue until one person would say, "You're right, you ARE sexier."

And then they would French kiss each other. But Waylon was disgusted by that. He thought that if one person was obviously sexier than the other one, what was the point of arguing in the first place. And it might have been cute if the argument had been saying the OTHER person is sexier.

But this time, the words were coming from a man who was either straight or more closeted than he, and those were what made him feel so good inside. He said to himself, "Oh… I will. I will re-gift this cake, and Mr. Burns will love it. Then I will tell him I love him and he will love me. And if he doesn't then this time I have a backup plan." He wheeled the dolly down the elevator and all the way to Montgomery's office.

_Don't volunteer information, Waylon, _he thought to himself. _If Mr. Burns asks, tell him the truth._

"Did you make this cake, Smithers?" Montgomery asked curiously, "Because you must've worked all night on it."

"Uh… no, sir. The bartender gave it to me to make up for one of your dependent droids stealing the one I made. I know it's not the same but…" Waylon blushed, "I hope you'll like it anyway."

"Are you kidding me? It's cake! Of course I'll like it!" Montgomery tried to pick up his fork but broke the bone in his shoulder. "Smithers, help me feed myself."

"Wouldn't it be easier if I just fed you, sir?" Waylon asked.

"Eh… I suppose," Montgomery said.

So Waylon picked up a bite of cake and gently put it into Montgomery's mouth. Despite his small frame, Montgomery managed to eat all of the cake, although Waylon did slow down when Montgomery seemed to be getting full, then returning an hour later to start it up again. When the last bite of cake was lingering in Montgomery's mouth, Waylon's lightning fast thought processes said, _You didn't get any of the cake, and Mr. Burns still hasn't swallowed the last bite. Kiss him and use that as your excuse. No, remember what Moe said, stop making up excuses and just do it for the hell of it._ Waylon plunged onto Montgomery and began to kiss him passionately, just as he had done at the time of the "apocalypse", but this time the only world that would end would be the one where he hid from Montgomery. When he finally finished after an entire minute, he stood back and breathed.

Montgomery started to giggle. "Smithers, if you wanted some cake so badly, why didn't you take some?"

"Sir," Waylon began, blushing terribly, "This… this… isn't about… cake. I… I… I…want you know that I… I… l-l-l-l-love you. Please tell me you were paying attention."

Montgomery's bamboozled expression was enough to say he was. "Why?" he asked.

"Because… you're beautiful, kind, smart, and strong," Waylon said.

"Really, because I thought I was decrepit, evil, woefully naïve, and fragile as a toothpick," Montgomery said, truthfully.

Waylon asked, "Why do I need a reason anyway? A person can't help falling in love."

"Someone young like you ought to be on the town dancing with other young people, dating other young people, and may I say, sleeping with other young people?"

Waylon looked down at his feet and said, "I've tried that, sir. But it's always YOU I want in the end. So my question is… do you love me back?"

Montgomery had a deathly pallor go over him when this question was asked. "Smithers, I am not a homosexual. I could not love you that way even if I wanted to. Which I do. I love you as a friend and an employee, but as far as relationships go… that's as far as we go. I'm sorry, I know this is terribly heartbreaking for you… oh, and you're not fired, in case you were worried about that. And no, you can still do the things I'm sure you love most about your job. It won't feel awkward on my end so long as you keep doing it the way you always have."

"Sir," Waylon said, stifling tears, "That's the answer I was expecting."

Montgomery said, "Good god! No WONDER you never told me. I'm a heartless person who ruins other people's hearts out of petty spite, and you love me anyway. Is there something wrong with you?"

"No."

"Well what about me, Smithers? Am I really the meanest person in the world?"

"No, sir. Don't let anyone tell you there is something wrong with you," Waylon said, "You being a jerk is no worse than me being gay…" The confusion on Montgomery's face was back. "I mean, homosexual. It's just a part of life."

"Smithers," Montgomery said. "Go to your office and wait patiently for my next assignment. Having you stay in here with me after that discussion is sure to yield plenty of awkwardness."

"Yes, sir," Waylon smiled and said as he walked out the door, "I still love you more than life itself."

Montgomery smiled and said, "You still don't have a chance."

"I know," Waylon said, still smiling, "But that's okay, because I have my fantasies."

And off he went to begin his backup plan.


	4. The ArgumentThe Date

Down he sat at the desk, pen in hand, as he began to write. The words came out like magic, and he was almost smitten with the air. As he finished off his letter, he took his carefully crafted gift basket and put the letter inside it. Waylon Smithers never thought he would do this, but he tossed all his old pictures of Montgomery Burns in the trash. He threw all his old unsent love notes in the trash and there was one picture he drew with him and Montgomery tying the knot in matrimony, something that he had kept in a portfolio for the past twenty-five years. He pulled it out of the portfolio and took out a white eraser, erasing the man he had long wanted to someday become his husband, and replacing it with a new face. He had moved on.

He walked out the door of his apartment and asked his subordinate, Carl, who he had met on the street, Moe Szyslak's address. He found the place, and put the gift basket on the doorstep. He rang and ran off, too shy to let Moe see him again. Moe opened the door, and was confused to see the gift basket. It contained piles and piles of homemade cookies, a fresh container of gin labeled with a note that said, "You were running low", a porcelain statue proclaiming, "Inner beauty rules", and a note.

Moe read the note:

_Dear Moe,_

_I love you. I don't know why, but ever since you sent me that letter, I've loved you. And the only thing keeping me from telling you was the fact that I was still in love with Montgomery Burns. But he rejected me, and so now I will reach out to you. I love you, and there is plenty of chance for us to be together._

_In your letter you told me never to let anyone tell me there was something wrong with me, and I took your advice, and without you, I'm sure Montgomery Burns would still have felt like the meanest man of all. And, one more thing, if we are to pursue a relationship, which I hope you will, you should know my name is Waylon, not Wayland. Not that I'm really angry with you about calling me such a close name._

_Meet me at the park to give me your answer on Friday._

_Sincerely,_

_Waylon Smithers Jr._

"What the hell?" he asked, "Was he DRUNK or something when he wrote this?" He looked at the letter and realized it couldn't possibly be sincere… there were too many good words about him. Without giving it any more thought, he threw the letter away, and headed off to work. That was Monday.

Next he worked on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. On Friday, he was planning to go to work, but he stopped to think about what could happen if the letter actually was sincere. Then he would be standing up a man whose heart was in such a fragile condition that a slip could lead him into the endless hopeless bleak despair that Moe himself had suffered through for more than enough time. But Moe couldn't help but shake the feeling that if he followed the instructions on the love note, that HE would be the one who got stood up, and even if he planned on saying it couldn't work, it would still hurt to have care put right under his nose only to be taken away again. So, fearing he would once again fall for a cruel prank, he did not follow the letter's instructions.

Montgomery had made a special deal with Waylon earlier that day. If Waylon did all the tasks on the to-do list early, he could leave early, because Montgomery knew he had a date. "Say, Smithers…" Montgomery began, out of curiosity, "Who's the guy? Is he a real looker?"

"Well…" Waylon said. The logical answer would have been "no", but Waylon didn't want to seem tactless, so he said, "He couldn't hold a candle to your beauty."

"Then why are you dating him?" Montgomery asked, which was the perfect question to ask, because, being so shallow, he believed that if someone did not look good, they should not be able to replace someone who looked better.

"Because you rejected me, sir. You can't expect me to hopelessly pine for your love after you've already given me your answer." Waylon tried desperately to shake the dirty sexy loving scene from his mind. So maybe he hadn't completely moved on.

Montgomery took his hand and said, "Smithers, you're a fetching young man. You don't have to settle for some gorilla. In fact, it would probably be more fun to make him suffer more by taking back what you said in the note. Wouldn't THAT be delightfully evil?"

"You want me to STAND UP Moe? I could never do that! It's indecent, and Moe barely has a will to live as it is!" Waylon was yelling at Montgomery. The evil which he had once excused due to infatuation was now tugging at his anger triggers like mad.

"Moe, eh? Isn't he the source of refuge for our unhappy employees? Wouldn't killing him off make THEIR lives worse? And besides, since standing someone up on a date doesn't count as murder, you wouldn't get in trouble," Montgomery said, still thinking Waylon's idea of fun was the same as his own.

"Not with the police, maybe. But my conscience wouldn't let me get away with it, and I know you don't believe in suicide, but I would probably commit it anyway, in a place where you weren't around to stop me." He then sprung to his feet and said, "Why don't you just think of someone besides YOURSELF for a change, you archaic embezzling mountebank!" Montgomery was shocked, not at the yelling, nor at the fact he was being insulted, but at the fact that Waylon was honestly so angry he used an insult that could be understood easily by the older man.

Waylon was equally shocked at his own words, once again finding himself assimilating by using words that are hardly used anymore. He covered his mouth immediately, and then peeped, "I'm sorry, sir. I don't know what came over me."

"Get out," Montgomery said, not shouting, but with a cold and bitter growl beneath the surface, one intended to hurt.

Waylon was so upset that he burst into tears. Seeing the forty-something cry made Montgomery reconsider, "Maybe you should stay. I love to watch your weakness come out."

The sadness temporarily got replaced with anger, "After all I've done for you, I can't believe you think I'M the weak one. Yes, it hurts, when someone you've just gotten over more than a crush on, wants you to get out of his sight. But does that really make me weak? What about YOU? Without ME, you'd be nothing." And with that, Waylon smacked Montgomery upside the face.

"Quitting, on the other hand, has no malice on your side in it. Goodbye, Monty."

"You can't call me that! I'm your boss!"

"Not anymore," Waylon said, slamming the door behind him.

Montgomery immediately regretted his stupidity. But he couldn't admit that, not even to himself. Because that would be admitting weakness, which he had done before, but only if he was physically prevented from doing something, which happened often. He was the epitome of the 90-pound-weakling, even being that incredibly emaciated. With all this physical frailty, he couldn't afford any emotional weakness, and could have no weakness of mind. Under his breath, which was worthless, as Waylon had left long ago, Montgomery muttered, "God damn it, Smithers, I love you."

He began walking around his office saying, "WHY did I have to reject him? If I had given HIM a chance to show me what it was really like, he would never have started dating that Neanderthal, and I would have never suggested that he stand him up, and we would never have gotten into that horrible argument, and he would never have QUIT!!"

Montgomery took a photo out of his desk drawer where Waylon and he were enjoying a ride at a theme park, and began to cry. Homer Simpson decided to ask him a question at this particular moment. As he walked into the office he asked, "Hey, Mr. Burns, can I have a raise?"

Montgomery did not look pleased. "GET OUT!" he yelled, before realizing that that's what he had said earlier to Waylon. "I mean, no," he said after that.

Meanwhile, Waylon ran to the park. It was already 3 pm, and there was the possibility that Moe had been waiting in the morning, assumed he had been stood up, and left. Waylon searched frantically around the park for Moe. When he didn't find him, he ran to the bar. "I'm sorry, I'm late," he panted as he opened the door. "I didn't forget. Or stand you up. Honest."

Moe felt very guilty because in this scenario, he was the one who did the standing up of Waylon. "I'm sorry," he said, "I assumed you were playing a prank on me and I didn't want to be stood up."

"Don't you trust me?" Waylon asked, taking Moe's hand.

"Of COURSE I trust you, but… why do you love me?"

"Because… you're smart, kind, and strong," Waylon said and the words' sincerity was far greater than that when he answered the question to Montgomery.

Moe, noticing the lack of any synonym for handsome, believed the sentence in its entirety, and said, "God, I'm not gay, but I'm so desperate for love."

Waylon shut his eyes and started kissing Moe. Moe kissed back, and Waylon believed Montgomery would be surprised, because he was awfully good at kissing for a gorilla.

Montgomery on the other hand was merely thinking now that his waterslide would really come in handy, and so he came up with a brand new idea for a festival throughout the town; where he rehired the fourteen contractors who actually did the job last time to build more rides about town for the upcoming festival: Day Under the Sun.


	5. The Festival

The day was perfect. The sun was shining. The birds were singing. The nuclear power plant was closed. Everything was perfect. A Ferris Wheel had been built by Springfield Elementary. A giant slide had made the van Houten residence a popular visitation spot. And who could explain the monstrous roller coaster that reached from the Flanders backyard, looped over the Wiggum house, dipped ever so softly into the Muntz rooftop, and came to a stop once again behind the Simpson household? Yes, Montgomery Burns' building had been well worth the two hundred million dollars.

Milhouse van Houten looked out the window and said, "Mom, there's a slide in our yard."

Luann van Houten who was too busy to notice what was going on said, "Oh that Kirk probably bought it for you as a present, stupid man wasting all his money on useless junk for Millie."

"No, Mom, look!" Milhouse exclaimed as he grabbed Luann's arm and dragged her to the window. Luann was so shocked that she nearly fainted. Milhouse tried to catch her, but as a ten-year-old was too weak to do so.

Luann hit the ground and said, "Ow! Milhouse!"

Milhouse said, "I'm sorry, Mom. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine Milhouse," she said angrily, as she began to head toward Kirk's apartment. "I'm going to tell your father the difference between nurturing and spoiling."

Milhouse was perplexed. "How could Dad even AFFORD such a huge slide? Must have bought it on credit."

Ralph Wiggum ran around and screamed unintelligibly. "Sweetheart, calm down!" Clancy begged, "I know it's going to take a while to get used to the roller coaster hovering over our house, but… we can just pretend it's a murder scene and Daddy's going to save the day. So just relax, okay, Ralphie?"

Ralph looked at his father and said, "The sky people hate me."

Clancy looked back at his son and picked him up. "Come on, Ralphie, let's go get some popcorn and lemonade." Ralph began to giggle. They walked over to the nearest concession stand which was just ten feet away from their house.

"Why don't you order, Ralphie?" Clancy asked, wanting to give his son something fun to do.

"Two bags of mothballs and two cups of tangerine urine." Ralph asked with a completely straight face. He then smiled while waiting for the answer to come back.

The teenager behind the counter was very confused. Clancy clarified, "What he means is two bags of popcorn and two cups of lemonade."

In that pubescent voice of his he squeaked, "Oh… I get it."

Ralph looked hurt. "That's what _I_ said, Daddy."

"I know, sweetheart, but… uh… well, you see… this is a place that discriminates against little boys, so we won't go HERE again!" Clancy faked a snotty turn. When he was sure Ralph wasn't looking, he turned back to the teenager and said, "I'll be back as soon as I find a childcare place."

Seymour Skinner was having the time of his life. His girlfriend, Edna Krabappel was sitting next to him on the ride. As it went above and below the flagpole, Seymour shouted "Whee!" Edna laughed at how childish her often strict boyfriend was being at this particular moment.

Marge Simpson stood at the front door of her house and asked her husband, "What made Mr. Burns turn over a new leaf like this?"

"He OBVIOUSLY just wants to ride the roller coaster with me," Homer replied, and when he saw Montgomery he gave him a big hug. "Burnsie, old buddy, old pal," he said, while smothering Montgomery and crushing his ribcage.

"Simpson," Montgomery whimpered while trying to breathe, "Let… go… of… me."

Homer backed away and said, "Sorry, Mr. Burns. Would you like to go on a roller coaster with me?"

"Go on a roller coaster with you!? Are you crazy!? You're not even my friend, you're the worst employee I have, and…" Montgomery began but stopped to contemplate. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I would like to go on the ride with you," he said. Homer was puzzled at Montgomery's sudden change of heart, but was glad that they could spend time together as friends. Montgomery had ulterior motives. _What better way to get Smithers jealous? _he thought. He tried to spot Waylon, which was easy, because he was the only man linking arms with another man, far less attractive. He drew some attention to himself by touching Homer in a suggestive manner.

Waylon saw him and immediately lost himself. "Moe, perhaps you should get back to work."

"Yes, Waylon, of course I will, honey," Moe responded as he kissed Waylon on the cheek. He walked past the waterslide into his bar.

"Not a homosexual, eh?" Waylon asked while narrowing his eyes jealously.

Montgomery pretended to be surprised and said, "Oh… Smithers, you don't understand. Homer Simpson and I are just friends."

Waylon kept his eyes narrowed and growled. He walked away and said, "Stop trying to make me jealous."

"Ooh… why did I hire such a PERCEPTIVE man?" he asked. But if all went according to plan, he wouldn't have to make Waylon jealous, because he had a few tricks up his sleeve.

It was 12:00 noon; time for the first hourly deal; people under 21 ride free on the waterslide. Bart Simpson was so ecstatic he said, "Ay carumba" and headed to be first in line. Rod and Todd Flanders soon followed.

"I don't know, sons. The waterslide looks pretty scare-diddily-airy. Are you sure you want to ride it?" Ned Flanders asked, concerned about his children's purity.

Bart answered, "Hey, losers, there's a surprise lemonade stand on the other side."

Rod and Todd screamed, "Yay!" and began jumping for joy. Soon all the kids in town were in line for the waterslide.

Montgomery took a megaphone out and said into it, "Don't forget to open the door on the other side!"

And all the kids rode into the waterslide. And they all opened the door and went in. Moe stood behind the counter and watched helplessly as the kids all came in. "Hey," he shouted, "No minors!" But did the kids listen? No. Nelson Muntz began to drink beer straight from the draught and quickly became very, very drunk. Bart and Lisa Simpson jumped around on the counter and broke ten good mugs. Milhouse and the Flanders kids all started alphabetizing the liquor. "Hey!" Moe shouted, "That's supposed to be in order of popularity, stupid kids. And I SAID 'NO MINORS!'" The phrase meant nothing to the kids, who left after twenty minutes. It took forty minutes to get the bar back in order. And then it happened again!!

"Do you guys not know the meaning of the words No Minors?" He was so fed up that he shoved them all out the door.

Ralph came back and said, "Does this mean I can't have another stinky soda?"

"GET OUT!!" shouted a very frustrated Moe. He was exhausted, and he hadn't even made any money that day.

"Holy crap," he said to himself, "Montgomery Burns is mad at me for stealing his throne." And then came his plan to break up. He didn't want to hurt Waylon's feelings, but he figured that if Montgomery cared enough about him to attack his boyfriend, then it wouldn't be too terribly difficult for Waylon to get back in the game.

While eating a burger and some fries, Waylon contemplated to himself, something he had noticed before but it hadn't clicked. _Oh my god. He was trying to make me jealous._


	6. The Resolution

Moe and Waylon literally walked into each other. Each man fell on his rump. They started talking in unison, "Listen… I… hey, you know you're a great guy… but… I think we should break up."

The two men stood aback from each other. "You want to break up with me? But I thought you were desperate," answered Waylon, confused.

"I am… but it's not worth minors to keep you. If someone as kind as you comes along in the near future, I'll be happy again, like I have been for these few days," Moe said obviously NOT okay. "That Montgomery Burns loves you, and he's the one who deserves you."

"But don't let that make you feel bad about yourself. Remember, you told me yourself, don't let anyone tell you there is something wrong with you. And there isn't. Mr. Burns might be the one for me, but like you said, other people think he's a callous power-hungry dictator. And that might mean that some people out there think you're cute."

"Yeah, right. Who would think I was cute?" Moe asked, genuinely concerned.

"If there are people crazy enough to love a decrepit, evil, woefully naïve, and fragile as a toothpick man three score older than themselves which is roughly five halves their age at age 43, even though they themselves admit they are crazy, then it shouldn't be that hard for an assertive without being unkind, truly self-aware, and strong enough to withstand physical and emotional battery throughout his wretched life, man whose main flaw is that his facial features are irregular to find love.

"In this world, there are plenty of people, even shallow people, with unusual types. And yes, god damn it, I said 'score', I'm assimilating to him so quickly I can't BELIEVE I ever thought someone else could replace him. I'm going to get Montgomery back!" Waylon's speech made Moe cry, first from tears of joy that someone might think he was cute, and then from tears triggered by the maudlin gush that followed.

"Can I offer you a kiss goodbye?" asked Waylon.

"Naw," Moe answered, "It would probably just make me unhappier. Go get the old geezer now."

Following the theme of g's, Waylon responded, "Gladly. Goodbye, my friend, and I'm giving you gratitude for giving me the guts to admit to my personal god that I'm gay."

Moe stood in awe, saying, "He's even better at alliteration than I am."

Waylon walked down the street where he greeted Montgomery. "Hey," he said.

Montgomery said, "Smithers! There you are! Look, I wanted to make amends for the argument we had the other day. Shall we take a stroll to the power plant?" He touched Waylon's hand, causing him to blush.

"In a few minutes, sir," he said, as he rushed to his apartment. When he got back in the room he was very relieved that he had not taken out the trash. He took the pictures out of the bin and the notes as well. He tried so hard to remove the crinkles that he resorted to putting one into his shirt and ironing it. This would not normally work but the shirt kept the paper safe from the heat. He found the wedding picture. He once again took out the white eraser and erased the current face, replacing it with a trace of the ghost image left days ago, of the one man he truly loved. Moving on? That's for crushes. This was love.

Montgomery waited for him until he walked out the door, with the picture, folded into his pocket, which he planned to show Montgomery at the end of the stroll. They went to the power plant not without stopping to smell the roses, which were in the yard of Otto Man. "Good day, young chap!" Montgomery called out to him.

"Those roses are so pretty," Waylon noted, "May I buy a dozen?"

"Yeah, sure, I'll even give them to you for free, if you answer me a question. Name two popular bands from the 70s or 80s."

Without thinking even for a second, the answer came, "Queen and the B-52's."

"Yeah!!" shouted Otto, handing Waylon 12 roses, "Those bands are AWESOME!! Here, give them to your boyfriend."

Waylon looked sheepish and said, "Why couldn't I have said something a little more… heterosexual?"

Montgomery said, "It was your destiny! Now tell me about this King and these Fly-64's."

Waylon chortled and said, "You're such a goof," passing him the roses.

Montgomery answered, "Thank you! What a lovely surprise! But I have an even better surprise for you… right about… now!" And there, just yards away, was a Tunnel of Love.

Waylon beamed, "Sir, you wanted to take me on the Tunnel of Love?"

The answer was simply a loving nod. Waylon embraced Montgomery, much gentler than when Homer did so, and put him in the boat, following soon afterwards. The two touched hands as the boat drifted out.

"But sir," Waylon began, "I thought you said…"

Montgomery hushed him ever so slightly as he pressed his lips against his assistant's. No time to protest, it was time to kiss back. After a minute, they let go. "Sir, you said you weren't a homosexual."

"I'm not," Montgomery said, "But… after reading one of those new periodicals, I saw an article explaining a third sexuality, which is combined heterosexual and homosexual."

"You mean… bisexual?" Waylon asked, ashamed of not being able to pick up on this sooner.

"That's the one! And here's the thing… even though I predate the article by a good seventy-five years, I think I'M one. Isn't that nutty?" Montgomery asked, with a hope that Waylon found it beautiful rather than nutty.

The smile on his beautiful face was enough to tell Montgomery that he did. Near the end of the ride, Waylon asked Montgomery if he loved him.

"Yes," was the answer, "I do. I love you more than anyone else in the world. Remember when I told you you didn't have a chance? Well it turns out, you do!" They were just coming out of the tunnel when Waylon reached his hand into his coat pocket and removed the picture.

"Ahem…" he said, while blushing hotly, "I know you would prefer something a little more valuable, but the only thing I have here is a picture. I hope you get the message even though the form is meager."

Montgomery looked at him and said, "You took the time to DRAW the two of us getting married? Anyone can buy a cheap ring. But it takes true care to create a homemade gift. Homemade gifts are perfect for the man who has everything, you know." He then started kissing Waylon once more, before realizing he had some unfinished business to take care of, "Oh and, by the way, my answer is yes."

The initial shock sent Waylon to the ground, where he said, "Thank you, Moe."

Moe came out of nowhere and replied, "You're welcome, Waylon. What can I say? Standing on the outside for so long gives great observations to human behavior."

"No matter what you may think, I think you're beautiful," Waylon said, "Of course, I'm not shallow so this beauty may not be visible to the naked eye."

"But who will marry us, Waylon?" Montgomery asked, calling him by his first name as he had rarely done in the past. "That conservative (not to be confused with republican) reverend would never do it or allow it."

"Hmm…" said Waylon, before thinking of the perfect solution. He looked over at Moe.

"Me?" Moe asked, "Are you kidding me? Who wants ME to marry them?"

"Well, we do, obviously," Montgomery said, "And don't worry, at least it'll be proof your advice worked on Waylon." He placed a bony hand on Waylon's back and moved it downward until he blushed.

"Well, jeez, I didn't expect this," Moe answered, "But I'll do my best."

The entire town was gathered at the wedding. Sideshow Mel jumped for joy at the sight, only to have Otto hold him tight. Ned was confused about whether to be thinking about the writings of the bible or about the beauty of true love; he picked the one that stopped him from being a negative Nancy. Reverend Timothy Lovejoy rolled his eyes.

"You don't trust my judgment enough that you hire a BARTENDER to marry people," he said solemnly.

Ned looked over and said, "I still trust you, Reverend."

Timothy said, "Shut it, Ned. I'll just pretend that the younger one is a woman and it'll all be fine."

That may have been the wrong thing to say, because Ned was now having dirty thoughts that didn't stop him from being a negative Nancy.

"So," asked Moe, near the end of the initiation, "Do you Charles Burns take Waylon Smithers to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"Oh for crying out… call me Montgomery! I mean, I do."

"And…" Moe began, but was interrupted by the immediate answer.

Waylon shouted, "I do! I do! I do!"

"I haven't even asked you the question yet."

"I'm just eager is all," Waylon said shyly.

Montgomery laughed and asked, "Who wouldn't be, honey?"

"Does anyone… except the reverend…have a reason why these two cannot be wed?" Moe asked as Timothy raised and lowered his hand.

Homer raised his hand. Moe said, "Yeah, what Homer?"

"Mr. Burns is evil so why would Mr. Smithers want to marry him?"

"Uhh… because I'm in love with him, Simpson. That's enough. Don't think I'm not still mad at you for stealing our cake."

"Very well," Moe said, "You may now kiss."

They did. And it was the most passionate kiss they had ever yet shared, though they had only had a few. Everybody said, "Aww…" except for Clancy who said, "Eww…" followed by "What?" when he saw that everybody was staring at him, Ned who didn't say anything, and Timothy who said, "Blasphemy", only to be smacked ever so gently by Ned in the face. Waylon was certain Montgomery had figured, but for completeness's sake, he said "Oh by the way, I want to work for you again."

"That can be arranged… in two months! But now, you and I need to go on our HONEYMOON! Right after the wedding party!" Montgomery was going to be the best husband ever, Waylon was certain.

The wedding party had been catered by Montgomery's private team of chefs, and the spread seemed somewhat familiar. It included among other things a cheese wheel, homemade salmon mousse, smoked oysters, socialite crackers, small medium rare roast beef sandwiches with a horseradish/au-jus combination, bottles upon bottles of champagne, and the cake was made from scratch of chocolate. It had been created, not by the chefs, but by Montgomery himself.

Homer ran off with the cake, with Waylon chasing after him, "Oh, no you don't!" he shouted, "We don't need another episode like that."

Homer said, "Jeez, I'm sorry." He patted Waylon on the back.

Waylon took the first bite of the cake and said, "Sir, it's delightful."

"Waylon, goodness, we're married and you still insist on calling me sir. Well, I certainly hope that you'll learn to call me Monty…"

"I think I will…"

Montgomery and Waylon went on their honeymoon at one of Waylon's favorite vacation spots. "Wow," said the bellhop at the front desk, someone who knew Waylon from previous visits. "You settled down."

"Only something I've been waiting to for twenty-five years," he said, taking Montgomery up to their room, where much love-making happened for the next few days, only to be compounded with many more fun times in the next few weeks, which would support their marriage for the next few months, which would last until one or the other died many years later.

Moe looked at his check back home and said, "Two hundred thousand dollars? That's more than I make in ten years! Oh, yeah, I'm gonna buy something nice with this."

And he did. For the couple living in the billionaire's mansion, he bought a surprise gift of a fountain claiming, "Deep-Down Kindness Rules". And soon everyone was calling Waylon Smithers Burns by the name of "Mrs. Burns", but he didn't mind. It was affectionate rather than cruel, and more than anything, it proved that he was married to Charles Montgomery Burns, what he had wished for so long.

Montgomery had been smiling and laughing a lot more, and even decided to give Homer a raise. Of course, soon Lenny and Carl found out and got mad that they didn't get a raise, which he also rectified.

Kent Brockman, newscaster for Channel 6, had to ask how Montgomery had achieved such a grand turnaround. He answered, "It's quite simple, really. I'm truly, madly in love. And my lover is not leaving me for anyone anytime soon. I have found a man who doesn't care that I'm decrepit, woefully naïve, and fragile as a toothpick, and that has stopped me from being evil."

Kirk van Houten was evicted from his apartment. Luann told him, "It's your own dang fault for buying Milhouse that giant slide!"

"For the last time I didn't do it! Why won't you listen to me!? I just need a new apartment, fast." Cookie Kwan grinned at the opportunity.

"Well," she said, "Have I got a thing in store for you!" She managed to sell Waylon Smithers' old apartment to Kirk, for a small enough price.

"Aw, great, just what I need. Another mortgage." Moe came and gave him a check for 300,000 dollars.

"A present from the Burnses. You're so lucky," he said as he ran off.

"Guess what?" Kirk asked Luann and Milhouse when he saw them again, "I don't have a mortgage anymore!"

Milhouse cheered and hugged his father.

And it all worked out for the Wiggums too, because Clancy got warned every time. Waylon would shout out, "Attention! I am about to kiss my husband, three score older than myself!" Three score, every time. Not sixty years or six decades; always three score. Because he was assimilating. And he liked it.

Yes, Springfield was much happier since Charles Montgomery Burns and Waylon Smithers got married. But Moe Szyslak had probably gained more than anyone else in town, because he had newfound knowledge that looks don't count for everything, and even if they did, some people have unusual types. That very afternoon, a woman walked into the door and asked, "Are you Moe Szyslak, the man who helped the billionaire and his husband find each other?"

"Well," he said shyly, "They did know each other in advance; I just helped push Waylon a little. He was too shy."

"It sounds like Waylon's a little like you, cutie," said the woman, "By the way, my name is Maureen Brzovich."

"Yikes!" shouted Moe, "Your last name is even worse than mine! I'm sorry if I'm being tactless. Wait, did you just call me cute?"

"Yes," said Maureen. And the two of them headed to Lake Springfield.

"I think I heard somewhere that picnics are fun there…" Moe said, as they walked into the sunset, months after the Day Under the Sun.

_Don't let anyone tell you there is something wrong with you._


End file.
